


One of My Lines

by jooliewrites



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Married Coliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooliewrites/pseuds/jooliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor thinks for a moment. “What did I say next?”</p><p>“Your friends—” Oliver prompts.</p><p>“Right.” Connor shifts closer and gives Oliver an exaggerated smirk. “Your friends seem to want a show? So…let’s make out? No, that’s not right. What did I say?”</p><p>“‘So just say the word and we can start making out,’” Oliver quotes.</p><p>Connor repeats it and then, “How do you remember all this?”</p><p>“You were really hot.” Oliver can feel the blush spreading over his neck. “It was very memorable.”</p><p>+</p><p>A short ficlet about Coliver aging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of My Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Originally cross posted from tumblr.  
> The original tumblr post included various headcanons about Oliver aging, so you can check it out [here](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/post/114093879623/headcanon-where-oliver-is-older-than-connor-and) if you like.  
> Hope you enjoy,  
> -Jules xoxo

When Oliver’s 40th birthday comes around and it becomes a little bit of a sore spot.

“Come on, Oliver,” Connor cajoles over breakfast on lazy Sunday. “We’ve got to do this right. Book the hall. Get a band. Invite everyone. Good food. Good friends. I mean, come on, you’re gonna be forty. Let’s do this.”

Oliver scoffs. “Exactly. I’m going to be forty. This really isn’t one I want to celebrate.”

“But Ollie.” At the look he’s thrown, Connor changes his tactic. “Okay, fine. How do you want to celebrate?”

“Just you.” Oliver looks down and fuzzes with his coffee cup. “You, me, dinner maybe. That’d be good with me.”

Connor’s silent at that but then a smile slowly spreads across his face. How did he ever get this lucky? He leans over for a kiss and lightly teases, “You’re such a sap.” Oliver kicks him under the table.

But Connor still really wants to throw Oliver a party and their friends don’t react well when they all get word that Oliver’s fortieth is going to pass without celebration so, eventually, a compromise is struck. The weekend before, they all get together for a dinner. No party. No band. No presents. Just a simple dinner with plenty of good food, good friends, and good conversation to go around.

Connor sits back halfway through desert, his arm casually draped over the back of Oliver’s chair, and just watches Oliver joke with their friends, struck by how happy and young Oliver looks. That night, they barely make it in the house before Oliver is pushing Connor up against the wall, slotting their hips together and holding Connor’s wrists up with one hand.

“Awful feisty for an old man,” Connor breathlessly teases as Oliver mouths down his neck.

Oliver lifts his head at that. His gaze is predatory. His hips press harder against Connor’s and he squeezes the hand at Connor’s wrists. “Who are you calling old?”

Connor swallows once. “You.”

Later, when Oliver’s fucking him into their mattress, Oliver growls in Connor’s ear, “Who’s old now?” Connor’s voice breaks on pleas of _sorry sorry please fuck Oliver there right there harder yes fuck_. And when Oliver demands, “Say it. Now.” Connor can’t hold back tears, as he chants _love you love you love you_.

A few days later, on Oliver’s actual birthday, it’s just the two of them when Connor walks over to their table holding two drinks. “Maker’s Manhattan.”

Oliver grins. “Two cherries.”

“Hey,” Connor says. “That was one of my lines.”

The bar they found isn’t exactly like the one they met at but it’s close. Their bar closed down years ago. The music playing overhead is different and the price of drinks has certainly gone up but, as long as they’re looking at each other, who really cares where they are.

“Sorry.” Oliver takes a sip and grins. “Go on.”

Connor thinks for a moment. “What did I say next?”

“Your friends—” Oliver prompts.

“Right.” Connor shifts closer and gives Oliver an exaggerated smirk. “Your friends seem to want a show? So…let’s make out? No, that’s not right. What did I say?”

Oliver smiles. He can’t seem to stop tonight. This was the dumbest idea they’ve ever had. “Who’s losing their memory now?”

“Shut up. What did I say?”

“‘So just say the word and we can start making out,’” Oliver quotes.

Connor repeats it and then, “How do you remember all this?”

“You were really hot.” Oliver can feel the blush spreading over his neck. “It was very memorable.”

“I was really hot?” Connor asks.

Oliver rolls his eyes. “Are really hot.”

“Thank you. You are really hot too.” They share a stupid grin. “It’s your line.”

“Oh. Um.” Oliver pauses, trying to remember. “Ignore them. I don’t talk to guys in bars a lot.”

“So let me guess,” Connor stars and the smirk comes naturally now as he remembers more. “You work at the advertising agency.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“I work at the bank across the street and—” Connor falters over the next part. He can’t make himself say the rest. This had seemed like a fun thing when they’d joked about it in the comfort of their home but now, in this strange bar surrounded by people at least ten years younger that either of them, Connor wonders why he ever brought this up. He likes to forget that they started with a lie. He rubs the back of his neck. “This was a stupid idea.”

Oliver moves so they’re standing next to each other and takes Connor’s hand in his. “It wasn’t a stupid idea.”

“Yeah right.” Connor takes a sip of his drink. “‘Let’s got out and reenact the first time I lied to you.’ Happy fucking birthday.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Oliver says, brushing a lock of Connor’s hair back. “I like to think of it as ‘Let’s go remember how far we’ve come.’”

Connor snorts but interlocks their fingers. “I love you.” He looks up and his voice is solemn. “That was never a lie.”

“I know.” Oliver leans in and their kiss is comfortable and sweet. “I love you, too. Let’s get out of here.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/)


End file.
